


Green Wings and Shiny Things

by Disneymagics



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Fae & Fairies, Fluff and Crack, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Naked Cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 06:56:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2058273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Disneymagics/pseuds/Disneymagics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen loves his friends and his life in the meadow, but his curiosity about the humans who will soon be moving into the houses beyond the tree line on the other side of the meadow leads him to undertake an adventure.  Traveling alone is dangerous for a fairy.  Everything is bigger than they are and, although they have some protective magic, it often isn't enough.  Add in the very real risk of touch starvation and it's easy to see how this adventure could end in tragedy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you etoile_etiolee.  Your beautiful manip of fairy!Jensen gave me the last little push I needed to write this fic.  You are a great friend and a very brave person!

  


_Chapter 1_

**Christian**

The Guardian looks down at his four tiny charges where they lie asleep in their burrow. His gaze travels over each one, takes in the soft spread of wings and the slender arms and legs, the small pixie faces with their delicate features, so innocent in sleep. They are wrapped around each other in a pile such that it's almost impossible to tell which limb belongs to which fairy. Nevertheless, the Guardian brushes a fingertip along the contour of each brightly colored wing, counting as he goes to ensure that each fairy feels his touch and gets the nourishment they require to survive - Felicia's red wing is one, Misha's purple is two, Alona's yellow is three, and Jensen's green makes four.

Touch starvation in fairies can happen rapidly and with very little notice due to their rapid metabolisms. Christian has seen it happen in other guardians' quadrals. It can happen in a matter of moments. A fairy flits away from the group when its guardian is distracted and is found later near death, too weak to move. Only many days of constant touch therapy can restore them and, even then, some don't make it. That's why fairies are put into groups of four - two male and two female - from the time of their birth, so they will always have companionship and a familiar touch when needed.

Christian takes his responsibilities as Guardian seriously. Danger can be lurking anywhere for creatures so small and fragile. Fairies have some protective magic of their own, but often it isn't enough. The fairy population is dwindling and with each fairy death a little of the joy and happiness in the world disappears, gone forever.

Christian's jaw clenches. No harm will come to the four fairies entrusted to his care. He will keep his quadral safe at all costs. Widening his stance, arms crossed, Christian scans the meadow, ever vigilant as he waits for his charges to awaken.

At break of dawn, Alona extricates one arm from the pile of her sleeping brethren, lifts her head from Misha's stomach, and blinks open her blue eyes. Misha is the next to rouse, stretching languidly before pushing his unruly hair out of his face. Jensen rubs his eyes with the knuckles of one tiny fist while Felicia props her head up on his shoulder.

"Good morning, little ones," Christian greets them.

"Good morning, Guardian," they chorus in their bell-like voices.

Jensen unfurls his iridescent, green wings. They beat the air faster than a hummingbird's, a blur of scintillating color that allows him to hover in place or dart in and out of sun motes, however his heart desires. He flies up to dance in a circle around Christian's head, grabbing a lock of hair and giving it a playful tug. His laughter tinkles through the air like the sound of a burbling brook.

Christian holds out his hand, palm up, and Jensen lands there as light as a feather. From the tips of his spiky hair to the soles of his bare feet, Jensen is no taller than a pencil from eraser to lead. His eyes match the color of his wings and golden freckles dust the bridge of his nose.

Just like any other self-respecting fairy, Jensen refuses to wear clothing. Many a Guardian has tried to talk his charges into at least wearing a loin cloth or a leaf, all to no avail. Christian has never worried overly much about the little ones' nakedness. It is simply their way and it's not up to him to force them to do something they don't want to do. Unless it's for their safety, of course.

Jensen's eyes sparkle with a certain mischief. "Guardian, the squirrels say the houses on the other side of the meadow are nearing completion. Humans will be moving in soon."

"Probably," Christian responds, head tilted to the side. "You'll have to be extra careful once that happens, won't you?"

A humming sound resonates from Jensen's wings, a sound of excitement. "I hope some of the humans come to our meadow. Young ones, maybe. What are young humans called again?"

"Children," Christian supplies the word. "But why do you want them to come to your meadow?"

"I wish to play with them." Jensen flashes a lopsided grin as he whizzes off to join his quadral mates where they are performing complicated aerial acrobatics and showing off for one another.

Christian watches as Felicia zips about, forming curlicues and loops in the air, fairy dust trailing behind her. It takes him a couple seconds to figure out that she's forming the letters of her name as though someone has requested her autograph.

At the end of her performance, Misha kisses the tip of her nose and caresses her arms.

Touching, always touching. The more they touch and are touched the happier the fairies are, not to mention the healthier they are. Felicia puts her hands on Misha's hips and together they twirl around mid-air, laughing.

A smile tugs at the corners of Christian's lips. His duties don't include liking the fairies. He doesn't have to enjoy their antics in order to protect them. But hell if he doesn't love them just the same. He loves Misha's quiet courage and silly sense of humor, Alona's daintiness and fierce determination. He loves the way Felicia pretends to be independent even though she needs more affection than the other three combined. But most of all, he loves Jensen's eager curiosity, his compassion for all living things, and his sheer joy.

Christian knows that Jensen is curious about humans. The small, green-winged fairy has asked about them before, often wants Christian to tell him stories about human customs and traditions. The fact that humans eat food intrigues him, as does their strange propensity for keeping animals as pets instead of allowing them to roam free.

As a satyr, Christian has only encountered humans a few times so, aside from the training all Guardians are required to take on human lore, he doesn't really know all that much about them. What with the human dwellings being constructed so close to his quadral's meadow though, it's only a matter of time before Jensen's wish to meet some of them gets granted. Christian only hopes his good-natured fairies don't come to regret any such interaction. Humans can be unpredictable and Jensen is far too trusting.

The day progresses and the fairies do what fairies are meant to do which to say they, well...they frolic. Fairies spread their happiness to the world through fairy dust. When they are happy, they produce more dust. The dust floats through the air and, everywhere it goes, burdens seem lighter, hearts are lifted, worries ease. Fairies are the light bringers, the shadow chasers.

Most people will never know what the fairies do for them on a daily basis just by being alive and well, but without them the world would be a much darker place.

In keeping with the train of Christian's thoughts, the white, fluffy clouds on the horizon begin to give way to a band of grey. Humidity descends and the air gets that crisp, clean smell that promises a spring shower. Alona makes a trilling noise to call the other three fairies to her side. Together they link arms to form a circle and tilt their heads back, waiting to feel the first, cool drops on their faces.

They don't have long to wait. Soon there are drops of moisture beading on their skin and shimmering on their wings. Felicia shakes the droplets off and laughs, a few strands of her vibrant red hair sticking to her face. Alona reaches over to tuck the strands behind Felicia's delicate ear. Her hand lingers on Felicia's cheek and the red-winged fairy leans into the touch with an affectionate grin.

The little ones love the rain just as much as they embrace the sunshine. Getting wet doesn't bother them.

Christian is less pleased by the rain. The tree he's standing under provides only a modest amount of cover and his clothes are getting soaked.

Jensen notices his frown and approaches him with a tiny frown of his own. "Guardian, the rain displeases you," he states rather than asks.

"Only because wet clothes are not incredibly comfortable," Christian confesses. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he wishes he could take them back. "It's nothing you need to concern yourself with though, little one. They will dry out quickly enough once the rain stops."

It's too late though.

Jensen gives him a sage nod. "Yes, clothes are very impractical. You should take them off."

"I should be even more uncomfortable without them," Christian tries to explain, for the hundredth time.

"Very well," Jensen gives in much more readily than he normally does during these types of discussions. "I shall advise the rain that you do not want to get wet." With that, he abruptly closes his eyes.

The space around Christian and the tree he's standing underneath are immediately devoid of any water, to the point where even the moisture already permeating his cotton tunic and breeches disperses, leaving him dry and free from any musty dampness.

Christian inclines his head. "Thank you, Jensen. You are very kind."

"It is nothing." Jensen gives a courtly bow before zipping away to tackle Misha into a small puddle.

Both fairies emerge a moment later, laughing and hugging.

Amused, Christian sits cross-legged under his very dry tree in his very dry clothes.

For such is the magic of fairies.


	2. Chapter 2

**Jensen**

The rain has stopped and, with the lack of a distraction, Jensen begins to feel twitchy again, like he's missing out on something wonderful, like some great new discovery is just over the next hill. He's been feeling this way a lot lately and it's getting harder and harder to ignore. There's just so much he wants to know, so many places he wants to explore. Without conscious thought, his gaze wanders to the tree line at the edge of the meadow and beyond the trees to where-

"Jensen, you have that expression on your face again." Misha's sudden appearance cuts through his reverie.

"What are you talking about? What expression?" he asks.

"You know, the one you get when you are about to do something crazy." Misha puts both his hands on Jensen's shoulders and stares directly into his eyes. "Remember when you decided to crawl down into that garden snake's hole?"

Jensen flutters his wings and averts his eyes, mumbling, "I just wanted to see how deep it went."

"Yes, I know you did. That is what you said after you got stuck and Guardian had to dig you out. The point I am trying to make is, the expression you have on your face now is the same as the one you had right before that attempt to become an earthworm. Are you planning another sojourn underground? Because if so, you might want to give Guardian a heads up this time so he can have a shovel handy."

Humor sparkles in Misha's blue eyes, but there's an undercurrent of concern that makes up for his teasing tone.

Jensen knows his friend only wants good things for him. The four quadral mates are as close as any four friends could ever be. They have been together since birth and they will be together for as long as they live. Jensen loves them all very, very much and he knows they love him too.

He only wishes that was enough to quell the yearning inside of him.

With some effort he dredges up a light-hearted smile and shakes his head. "No, I am not planning to burrow into the ground again. That would be a silly thing to do for I can think of so many more entertaining ways to spend my time."

Misha laughs and pulls him into a hug. "Just so. Let us devise a new obstacle course and see who can complete it the fastest. We will need to find some way to slow Alona down. If she wins again, she will never stop boasting."

Jensen snuggles into his friend's embrace even as he agrees to the obvious diversionary tactic. An idea has just occurred to him and he's going to need to fortify himself before he can carry it out.

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

Fairies are not devious by nature. Jensen doesn't mean to be devious, really he doesn't. It's just that once the idea comes to him, he cannot get rid of it.

A quick trip to the other side of the clearing to look at the human dwellings is the perfect way to satisfy his curiosity. He only needs to take a peek inside, just to see how the humans live, and that will be enough. Then he can go back to his meadow and all will be well.

There's no need to worry anyone. He can go and be back before his friends have time to miss him and alert the Guardian. The obstacle course will keep them busy for the rest of the day, especially if he tells Misha that the only way to ensure Alona doesn't win is to make the course as long and complicated as possible.

While they all work on setting up the obstacles, Jensen takes every opportunity he finds to brush up against the other fairies, storing the nourishment skin-on-skin contact gives him. The trip alone across the meadow and back will require all his reserves. At one point, he even feigns tiredness and flies over to sit on the Guardian's shoulder and lean against his warm neck.

If the Guardian thinks this odd, he doesn't say anything, simply reaches up and caresses Jensen's wing with one finger.

Jensen bides his time. The obstacle course he has helped devise will range over the entire meadow, encompassing sections where the fairies will have to run, fly, jump, and even do cartwheels. It requires a lot of preparation.

Once the other three fairies have disappeared over the crest of Kaliope Hill to create an obstacle out of the mushroom ring that grows on the southern slope, Jensen makes his move. He has to be quick. His quadral mates will be visible to the Guardian again as soon as they move on to the boysenberry patch where they will encourage the bushes to form a series of tunnels with their branches. By that time, Jensen must be well hidden and hope the Guardian does not notice that there are only three specks in the distance instead of four.

With a flick of his wings, he sends a spray of fairy dust swirling around the Guardian's head. Jensen isn't sure why he does it, but a little extra happiness cannot hurt. He then rubs his cheek against the Guardian's much larger one, a common gesture of gratitude, and flies off in the general direction of Kaliope Hill where the other fairies are still arranging the mushrooms.

Instead of continuing down the southern slope, however, Jensen veers to the east. The tall, green reeds that carpet the ground there provide the perfect cover. Jensen flies a zig-zagging path amongst the shrub and underbrush, giddy in his certainty that no one has yet taken heed of his departure.

A shiver of delight goes through him. His heart beats a staccato rhythm against his very small ribs. He's off on a grand adventure. He has never done anything like this. As far as he knows, no fairy has ever deliberately left his quadral mates and his guardian to go off on his own. Occasionally, a fairy will wander away accidentally, but not on purpose. This is something brand new and, although it's a little frightening to be all by himself for the first time, it's also exhilarating.

He makes it across a long, open field of wild flowers, breaks through the line of pine trees that mark the edge of the meadow, and stops, amazed. Even from this distance, the human dwellings look humongous, massive structures made of wood and brick. He cannot imagine what it must be like to live inside such gigantic boxes, never to see the stars sparkle overhead just before he falls asleep or to feel the cool breeze during the night.

There are no humans in sight. The houses appear finished, but no one has taken up residence inside them yet. They are silently waiting, like giant, squat sentries all in a row.

Curiosity buzzes through him, making his wings quiver. What do the humans keep inside their houses? Why do they feel the need to cut down all the vegetation and erect such large structures for their own use? What goes on behind the walls where humans isolate themselves from all other animal and plant life?

Humans are an alluring mystery and Jensen is so close to finding some of the answers to his many questions. The excitement he feels is almost more than he can bear. He flies around in a tight, little circle, stops, and wraps his arms around his torso as if by doing so he can somehow keep himself from bursting into a million feverish pieces.

He takes a few calming breaths and then darts, quick as an arrow, up to the nearest dwelling. A transparent panel set in one of the walls allows him a clear view inside. Heart fluttering, he presses his nose against the cool pane.

What his eager eyes see is...disappointing. The house is empty. The walls are bare, the rooms stark. It's just a hollow shell.

Jensen's high spirits plummet. He can learn nothing from an empty house.

He'll have to go back soon. Misha will get suspicious if Jensen stays away much longer. He doesn't want to worry anyone. Besides, the trip back is long and he can already feel the first signs of touch deprivation. The symptoms aren't strong yet, nothing serious, but the slight tremor in his hands reminds him that time is running out.

One more house, he thinks. Yes, there's definitely enough time to check out one more of the human dwellings before he has to return to the clearing. The thought makes his drooping wings perk back up.

Ignoring the tell-tale pang in his chest, Jensen flutters across the space between the two buildings. A wooden fence surrounds the area where the grass has only been allowed to grow to a very short height, not even reaching over Jensen's head. It would be impossible to play hiding games in that grass and Jensen is perplexed as to why anyone would want to keep it so short.

Several of the transparent panes line the side of the next house. Sunlight reflects off the smooth, hard substance in much the same way as it reflects off the surface of a calm pond.

Holding his breath in anticipation, Jensen hovers in front of the first one. He's almost afraid to look for fear of being disappointed again. This is his last chance at investigation, at least until he can convince his friends and the Guardian to come back with him and who knows when that will be.

He closes one eye and peers inside with the other, hands cupped on either side of his face. The breath he's holding gushes from his mouth, fogging the pane. Quickly, Jensen wipes the moisture away.

He is rewarded for his efforts with his first glimpse of actual human belongings. Jensen's closed eye pops open.

_This_ house is not empty. This house has stuff in it. Lots and lots of stuff. Most of the things look very strange. Everything is very big, of course. Jensen had been expecting that. What he hadn't been expecting is just how much of it there is. Brown boxes are stacked on top of each other everywhere. There are things that look as though they might be meant for sitting on and things that seem to be for putting other things inside of and even things to put other things on, although Jensen can't imagine what or why.

Instead of dampening his curiosity, the sight of so many strange objects only makes it burn hotter. Every item he sees opens up a world of entirely new questions. He dashes from one transparent pane to the next and, in his excitement, he forgets all about the growing tremors in his hands.

Finding a way into the house is something he dares not even wish for and yet, there it is, as though put there just for him, a small gap between one of the panes and the wall. Without a second thought, Jensen flies through.

His heart begins to thump wildly, sparking a rush of adrenaline. He is _inside_ the human dwelling. It is utterly overwhelming. He performs a mid-air pirouette, which he is glad his friends are not here to see and tease him for, and lands on the floor behind a stack of boxes.

The sound of sharp, staccato footsteps startles him so much that he is momentarily paralyzed. He had not realized there was anyone but him inside the dwelling.

"Yes, Mr. Padalecki," a voice says. "Your furniture has arrived and all of your boxes have been delivered. The house is ready for you whenever you want to come by."

A human. And a female one from the sound of her voice.

This is wonderful! Jensen is eager to meet his first human.

Sure enough, a female strides past the boxes Jensen is standing next to. From his low vantage point, all he can really see of her are the pointy shoes she has on her feet.

"I'm just going to make sure the house is secure before I leave. I'll lock up and you can pick up a set of keys from my office whenever you like. Thank you, Mr. Padalecki. Good bye."

"Hello there," Jensen says in his friendliest tone of voice. "My name is Jensen. It is so very nice to meet you."

The human keeps on walking. She doesn't even slow down and Jensen realizes that she hasn't seen him. She stands next to the opening in the wall, pushes down on the pane, and the gap closes.

"Oh," Jensen says, surprised. "No, wait." He flies to where the gap used to be. "Will you please open that again? I need to get out."

He spins around just in time to see the female human go through a much larger opening in a different wall. The opening closes with a harsh bang.

Fear settles like a stone in Jensen's belly. He calls out as loudly as he can, "Come back! Please!"

But the human does not come back.

Jensen is all alone.

And he's trapped.

The fine tremors in his hands spread up his arms into his chest and his wings. Jensen goes from happy and excited to terrified in a matter of seconds. He rushes to the dwelling's main human exit, wings beating the air frantically, and pounds on it with his tiny fists. The noise he makes is no louder than a dull thump. It's not enough. He knows it's not enough.

A frightened, little sob catches in his throat. His grand adventure now seems so stupid and pointless. Why had he left the safety of his meadow, the comforting touches of his friends and the Guardian, to come out here all by himself? Why had this been so important?

His friends will have noticed his absence by now. They will be worried about him. The Guardian will be searching for him, will probably be blaming himself for letting Jensen get lost. As vigilant as the Guardian is, as faithful and protective as he always has been, he doesn't deserve this. This is all Jensen's fault, no one else's. Jensen hangs his head, shame and grief heavy on his shoulders.

His qaudral mates and the Guardian will scour the meadow, looking for him, but they will never think to look for him here. They will never know what fate has befallen him. That fact, more than the thought of his own death, is what makes Jensen pull himself together.

Maybe there is another way out. Maybe if he stops feeling sorry for himself and just looks around, he can find a way home.

The dwelling seems even larger on the inside than it had on the outside. There are multiple sections divided by many walls. Some of the sections are quite large and hold many things while others, by comparison, only look big enough to hold one or two humans comfortably at a time.

Jensen flies from one area to the next, checking for any other gaps or openings in the walls that might lead to the outside. He examines every corner, every crevasse. He searches along the top of the walls and behind every box. There's nothing, not even a crack.

By the time he gets to the last room, the tremors have graduated to full-blown shudders that wrack his entire body. The muscles in his wings are so fatigued that they can barely suspend him any longer. Defeated, he sinks down onto the nearest surface, something hard and cold and profoundly unwelcoming.

He longs for the warmth and comfort of his burrow. His body craves nourishment. He needs someone to touch him. The emptiness inside his chest that Jensen equates with hunger has expanded. It threatens to engulf him. He swallows convulsively.

In desperation, he brings his shaking hands to his naked belly, rubbing circles into his own skin. He closes his eyes and imagines that Misha is stroking him, that Felicia is snuggled up against him, that Alona has her head in his lap. He thinks about the Guardian caressing his wing with one large, gentle finger. He lets the harsh world around him dissolve and surrenders to his fantasy.

The sun sets on the world outside and, as the light fades, so does Jensen's strength. Malnourished and frail, his body begins to shut down. The tremors ease off, leaving him feeling sluggish and languid. The cold surface he's laying on doesn't seem so unforgiving anymore.

It isn't a bad death, Jensen thinks. It isn't painful.

Lassitude steals over him. His hands stop moving against his belly. He tries to flutter his wings, but they don't so much as twitch. Tries to open his eyes, but he cannot. He doesn't even have the strength to roll from his back onto his side.

He is just so sleepy, so weary.

This is it. This is how it ends, how he ends.

His last thoughts are of his friends, his meadow, and the obstacle course he'll never get to play on.


	3. Chapter 3

**Jared**

The night shift at the hospital lasts until 8am, so Jared decides to swing by the realtor's office right after work. His new house is ready for him and he can hardly wait to get there and start unpacking his boxes. Apartment living is okay but, now that he's finally completed the residency program, he's ready to take the next step in his life, a step that includes home ownership. A house means permanence and stability and that's exactly what Jared needs.

The journey to this point has been long and hard. There have been times when he's thought about giving up on his dreams. Jared loves helping people, he really does, it's just that sometimes, well...sometimes being a doctor isn't all it's cracked up to be.

One of the things he's had to come to terms with is that he can't save everybody, no matter how dedicated he is or how hard he tries. That knowledge has come with a high price tag. He's learned not to become personally invested in his patients' outcomes. He's had to harden his heart a little bit.

His realtor hands him a padded envelop with a professional handshake and a, "Congratulations Mr. Padalecki. It's all yours."

Jared smiles at her. She's been great throughout this entire process, going well above and beyond her normal duties in order to accommodate his busy schedule.

He pulls the brass key out of the envelope, lets it sit in the palm of his hand before tossing it in the air and catching it.

Next stop, home sweet home.

**~*~*~*~*~**

The key slides smoothly into the lock and makes a satisfying click as he unlocks the deadbolt. The house smells of fresh paint and cardboard. Jared breaths in deeply, taking time to appreciate the moment. Three bedrooms, two and a half bathrooms, a kitchen fit for a gourmet chef, and a living room which he is hereby dubbing the game room. And it's all his.

He wanders from the front hallway, past the coat closet, and into the game room. The sheer number of boxes scattered about the space is more than a little intimidating. Truth be told, now that he's here, he's not sure where to begin. Luckily, the contents of each box are clearly visible, written in black Sharpie ink. Jared has never been happier about his OCD tendencies.

Yawning, he looks around, still feeling like he's lost in a maze made out of cardboard. It had been a hectic night at the hospital and he's not as clear-headed as he needs to be for this task.

Coffee. Coffee sounds like an excellent place to start. The coffee maker is in the kitchen, somewhere, so Jared heads in that direction, sidestepping a box of books and bumping into the couch on his way there.

One of the many boxes in the kitchen holds his Keurig, a couple of K-cups and a mug for just this occasion. It's only a matter of finding it.

He's in the process of shifting a stack of boxes over so he can get to the ones behind it when he sees a doll lying on the counter. Jared doesn't own a doll. His first thought is that one of the movers must have left it there accidentally. Or maybe it belongs to the realtor's child.

As soon as he walks closer though, he realizes his mistake. It's not a child's toy. For one thing, dolls aren't usually that anatomically correct. Nor are they that life-like.

Jared stares, not sure he can believe his eyes. He knows fairies exist, he's watched documentaries about them, seen pictures of them, but he's never seen a real one before. Fairies are extremely rare, almost like an endangered species. And this one doesn't look at all well.

It's a male, that's easy to see right away since it's lying on its back and it - he - is not wearing any clothes. His iridescent green wings are spread out underneath him. They look somewhat ragged and very, very fragile, like the slightest touch could cause them to disintegrate. His facial features are lax and his eyes closed. He could almost be asleep if not for the translucent, unhealthy tone of his skin.

Jared's stomach clenches. He gets that familiar, queasy feeling he always gets when faced with a problem he knows he won't be able to solve.

Fairies are delicate creatures and this one is very sick, probably suffering from severe touch starvation. He's all alone and who knows how long he's been trapped in Jared's house.

"What happened you, huh?" Jared whispers as he gently runs the tip of his finger along the fairy's slender arm.

At his touch, dull green eyes shoot open. Jared gasps and pulls his finger back. The fairy looks up at him, such a depth of emotion swirling in his eyes that Jared is stunned. The tiny creature blinks a few times and then seems to lose his struggle to remain conscious. His eyes close and stay that way.

Jared's heart sinks and he knows he's done for, knows he's going to do whatever he can to save this fairy. He also knows that it's most likely a lost cause and he's going to lose his own heart in the process.

Touch starvation can only be cured in one way, constant skin-on-skin contact, constant care, and constant attention. Even with all that, chances are this fairy isn't going to make it. He's just too far gone already.

Even as Jared takes off his shirt, he tries to steal himself for the inevitable. He needs to shut down that part of himself that tends to get too emotionally involved, to care too much. But one look at that tiny face and he knows it's too late. The memory of those green eyes, dulled by advanced stage touch deprivation and still so expressive, is going to haunt him for a long time after this is over.

There are so many reasons not to take on the rehabilitation of a desperately ill fairy - he'll be unable to do anything else for days, the hospital will have to get another doctor to cover his shifts, and his unpacking will have to be put on hold indefinitely. None of that is the real reason Jared's stomach is in knots though.

Very carefully, Jared slips his hand under the fairy and picks him up, making sure to support his head and keep his wings from getting crumpled. This time, there's no response to Jared's touch, not that Jared had expected there to be. The little body is cold from where it's been lying on the granite countertop. Jared drapes the fairy over his forearm and cradles him against his bare chest so that there's as much skin-on-skin contact between them as possible. The body heat will help keep him warm while the contact will provide essential nourishment.

The fairy seems to melt against him, boneless, as if on some level he realizes what's happening and accepts Jared as his last hope for survival.

"Yeah, I know. You've had a rough time of it, but I'm here now and I'm going to help you," Jared murmurs to the limp form in his arms. He believes in talking to comatose patients. He thinks the meaning and intention behind the words get through even if the words themselves don't.

Forgoing his coffee fix, he returns to the game room and settles in on the couch for the long haul.

Touch therapy requires more than simply holding the fairy and sharing his body heat. Full body contact is a good start, but for a case of touch starvation this acute, additional steps have to be taken. The fairy's nerve endings have to be stimulated continuously by rubbing his skin.

Jared starts by brushing a fingertip lightly down his tiny patient's chest, over his stomach, his hip, and along his leg all the way past his ankle to the sole of his wee foot. With his thumb and forefinger, he bends the leg at the knee, softly massages the muscles in the thigh and the calf. He does this several times and then he shifts the fairy over so he can do the same with the other leg.

Next, he picks up one of the fairy's hands, marveling at how small and delicate it is. The fingers are finely formed, elegant. Jared manipulates each one, gently bends the wrist, the elbow, and rotates the shoulder, all with the fairy nestled against his chest.

Working with these miniature limbs is meticulous work, all the more so because they are completely malleable, offering no resistance while the fairy is unconscious. One wrong move and a bone could snap or a ligament could be pulled.

Jared goes through multiple repetitions with the other arm and moves on to the wings, turning his patient over so he's lying on his front, wings and back easily assessable. Thanks to the documentary Jared had watched during his med school days, he knows that fairies' wings are highly sensitive, containing more nerve endings than any other part of their body.

His fairy's wings are the color of uncut emeralds, not as brilliant as they probably are when he's healthy, but quite beautiful nonetheless. They remind him of a cross between dragonfly and butterfly wings, as sheer as gossamer and yet strong enough to enable aerial stunts more dramatic than any airplane.

Jared imagines how his fairy must have looked before this happened to him, zipping around with the sunlight making his wings sparkle, fairy dust trailing behind him like a tiny comet. He must have been breathtaking.

Then Jared wonders when he started thinking of this fairy as 'his'. Sighing, he shakes his head at his own stupidity. Stop it, he warns himself, even though he knows it won't do any good.

"You're going to have to wake up soon so you can tell me your story, Comet. How in the world did you end up in my house of all places?" Jared winces when the name comes out of his mouth, but he supposes giving the fairy a name is better than continuing to think of him as 'the fairy' and infinitely better than 'my fairy'.

The wings feel brittle as he smooths a finger over them, as though dangerously depleted. The doctor in him wants to hook Comet up to an IV and pump fluids into him. Fluids won't do him any good though since fairies don't drink or eat. They get all their nutrition from touch. Which begs the question of where Comet's friends are. Fairies don't travel alone. If they do, they die. Comet is a case in point.

"Where are your buddies?" Jared croons. "Why did they let you go off all by yourself? Are they looking for you?" The questions keep mounting and there aren't any answers forthcoming. Comet hasn't so much as twitched since that first touch. His chances of recovery are getting slimmer with every moment he remains unresponsive. Jared's throat closes up and he has to swallow hard against the constriction. There's a strong possibility he may never know what happened to this poor little guy.

Jared continues his ministrations for what seems like hours, stoking the entire surface of Comet's wings, his back, his bottom, the backs of his legs and arms. Turning him over again, Jared sweeps the pad of his thumb over the fairy's cheeks, his up-turned nose. He stares at the elfin features, the tousled, light-brown hair, the slightly pointed ears, and the pale freckles.

"Come on, open your eyes. I'm not gonna give up on you, but you have to fight this."

There's no movement other than the shallow rise and fall of the fairy's chest.

Slouching into the couch cushions, Jared heaves a sigh. His eyes are burning and he really needs that cup of coffee if he's going to wait this out until the bitter end.

"Come on, little one. I need a sign here. Give me something to go on."

The indentations of each rib are discernible under his fingers as he absently rubs Comet's side. Jared's gaze shifts to the kitchen doorway through which he thinks he sees the box he packed his coffee maker in. It would only take a bit of manual dexterity to get the Keurig out, make a cup of coffee, and hold Comet at the same time. He could totally do it.

His thoughts are interrupted by a weak whisper of a voice. "Guardian?"

Jared's full attention snaps back to the tiny creature in his arms. Unfocused eyes are once again open. Tremors start up in the wings and quickly spread.

"Hey. You're awake. It's okay. Hush now, it's going to be okay," Jared tries to sooth his trembling patient.

Well, he'd asked for a sign and he sure got one.

Comet is awake, but that doesn't mean he's out of the woods yet.


	4. Chapter 4

**Jensen**

Little one.

It's the sound of the Guardian's pet name for his charges that pulls Jensen from the depths of a sleep filled with strange dreams and a sense of hopelessness.

The Guardian must have urgent need of him as it is not customary for him to awaken Jensen or any of the other fairies unless there is danger nearby. Something must be wrong. The heavy sensation in his chest brought on by his dream gets more pronounced.

More words follow, something about a comet and illness and a word that sounds like cough-e. He can make no sense of them. Above him, a large face framed by long, dark hair looms. Jensen's vision is hazy, as though he's looking up at the surface from the bottom of a murky swamp. The Guardian's features are obscured by shifting bands of light and shadow.

Jensen feels strange, detached from his body, weightless and yet leaden at the same time. He's never experienced anything like this before. It's almost as though he's still dreaming, trapped in a nonsense world.

Pushing aside his confusion and speaking around what feels like a swollen tongue, Jensen asks, "Have you need'a me, Guar'ian? Wha' can I do to assist you?"

If there is trouble, he wants to help in whatever way he can, despite how groggy and shaky he is. He tries to sit up and discovers that he cannot. Even though nothing is holding him down, he is too weak to move. Tremors that he cannot control threaten to shake him apart. This fact doesn't scare him, it only bewilders him further.

"Wha's wrong with me?" he asks, noting how thick and slow his voice sounds.

A loud buzzing in his ears prevents him from understanding the answer. The more he tries, the further the meaning slips away from him. It's hard to concentrate.

As he lies there, unable to move, to see properly, to hear, he wonders what the other fairies are doing. He hopes they are alright. He hopes they are together and happy somewhere safe. Alona is resourceful. She'll figure out what to do. If they stay together, they'll be alright.

Jensen doesn't know how he got left behind, but he wishes he could be with them, wherever they are.

Gradually, he becomes aware of warmth seeping into his body and a heady caress. The touch feels so good, soothing and nurturing. It makes him feel cared for in a profound way. Deprived of his other senses and with no alternative course of action available to him, Jensen stops thinking and focuses on that touch, latching on to it with his mind since he cannot hold on to it any other way.

A large finger strokes the length of his body, from his chest, along his stomach, his hip, down one leg to his foot. This happens again. And again. The finger moves on to his other side, his arms, his face. Every centimeter of his skin receives the same tender attention. No one has every touched him like this before. Hugs and cuddles and simple touches, yes, all the time, but nothing this all-pervasive. The smooth glide of skin on skin soon lulls him into an almost trance-like state.

The touch is similar to that of the Guardian's in that the fingers are too large to belong to Misha, Alona or Felicia. It is gentle and somehow reassuring as the Guardian's touches often are. That is where the similarities end, however. Where the Guardian's fingers are roughened by a life spent outside, weathering the elements on a daily basis, these are even bigger, even stronger, but completely free of scars and callouses.

Whoever is holding him, whoever is helping him, it isn't the Guardian, Jensen realizes.

The touches continue and Jensen's tremors begin to recede, the white noise in his ears fades, some small amount of strength returns to him. When next the finger caresses his cheek, he leans into the touch, hoping to convey his gratitude in the best way he knows how.

"That's it," says the deep voice from above him, still muffled as if Jensen's ears are filled with mud, but mostly intelligible now. "You're doing good, Comet. You're not trembling so hard anymore. There's no reason to be scared. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just trying to help."

"Who's C'met and why's he scared?" Jensen asks, blinking his eyes in an effort to bring them into focus.

The finger moves away, the blurry face gets closer, and Jensen feels a vibration underneath him as the person cradling him chuckles. The sound is more one of relief than amusement, he thinks.

"Actually...you're Comet, at least until you're well enough to tell me your real name."

"Oh," says Jensen. He ponders that for a while. "'m I no' well?"

There's a slight pause and then, in a low tone, the voice confirms, "No, you're not well."

'Not well' means he is sick and fairies don't get sick, so illness doesn't seem like a reasonable explanation for his predicament. Touch deprivation is a type of illness, but as far as truly getting sick, fairies never...

"Oh," he says again as memories flood into him. He remembers getting trapped inside the human dwelling, frantically searching for a way out. He remembers getting weaker and weaker, finally losing hope and resigning himself to death. He remembers being unable to open his eyes and knowing he would never see anything ever again.

The memories seem to sap him of what little strength he had regained. As his breathing deepens and slows, it somehow becomes very important that he set one thing straight.

"'m not scared," he breathes out on a long, drowsy exhale.

"I didn't catch that. What are you trying to say? Hey, hey, hey, don't fall back asleep yet."

Jensen hears the voice calling to him and he tries to comply, but it's no use. Despite the tip of a large finger gently rubbing his cheek, his world tilts and he slides headlong into the sweet, dark ether.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next time Jensen wakes up, he's on his stomach, the side of his face smooshed against a warm, comfortable surface. A rhythmic up and down motion makes him feel as though he's floating on some lazy current of thermal air. The same large hand from before is cupping his body in a light, yet protective grip, and there's a rumbling noise coming from somewhere above and behind him.

He knows where he is and how he got here. He's inside a human dwelling which means that he is most likely being held by a human. Jensen's eyes widen. A human has saved him from touch starvation, has been caring for him and providing touch therapy for what has probably been many hours, maybe longer. A little thrill runs along his spine.

Sunlight pours through the clear panes in the wall. It is daytime, although how many days have passed since his unfortunate adventure began he cannot tell. It might have been one day or many weeks for all he knows. Misha, Alona and Felicia will have given up all hope of finding him alive by now. Something tells him that the Guardian will never give up looking for him though. If nothing else, guilt will fuel his search. The thought is a sad one and Jensen cannot help the whimper that comes from his throat.

The soft sound does not provoke any changes in his immediate surroundings. His bed continues to move steadily up and down. The rumbling noise continues on unabated.

Jensen decides to take stock of his situation. He experiments by flexing one arm. He can shift it, but the muscles are still too weak for more than feeble movement. With supreme effort, he brings one hand up to his face, knuckling sleepily at his eyes. His skin is hyper-sensitive, nerve endings sparking back to life after dormancy. He squirms a little, just to feel the delicious tingles generated by the movement wherever his naked body touches his warm bed. The tingling sensation begins to concentrate in one particular area, heat igniting and pooling. Jensen's face grows red when he realizes what he's doing and why it feels so good. He stops. That's not supposed to happen _now_.

Maybe it's time for him to meet his human.

By lifting his head Jensen can see that he's lying on the man's chest. His shirtless chest. Jensen whole-heartedly approves of his human's willingness to do without a shirt. Clothing is a nuisance he will never understand.

They are in the room Jensen had originally entered through a gap in the wall. It's much the same as he had first found it. Boxes still clutter the area, although some of them appear to have been opened, their contents now scattered here and there.

The man is asleep, slouched on one of the things meant for sitting on, head tipped back to rest on the cushions, eyes closed. The rumbling noise emanates from his slightly open mouth. He must have been very tired to have fallen asleep in such an uncomfortable position.

Short, stubbly bristles cover the man's cheeks and jaw. Fairies cannot grow facial hair, but upon seeing how ruggedly handsome his human looks, Jensen wishes otherwise. He rubs his own smooth jaw, imagines himself with a bushy beard and grins, amused by the thought. A few particles of fairy dust swirl from his wings and shimmer in the sunlight.

Wobbly as a newborn fox kit, Jensen crawls out from under the cupped hand and inches along the incline until he reaches the juncture of the man's shoulder and neck. There he curls up, muscles quivering from so much exertion too soon, to wait for his human to awaken. Patience is not normally high on Jensen's list of attributes, but he can be patient now. After all, this man has obviously been very patient for him.

Some time later, the man takes a deep breath and lifts his head from the cushions. His empty hand flies up and Jensen hears a loud gasp. Before he can do or say anything, the man's head begins to swivel so frantically that Jensen is almost tossed from his perch.

"No, no, no," the man chants under his breath. "This can't be happening. I did _not_ fall asleep and lose you. Not after all the progress you've made." As he mutters to himself, the man carefully pats the folds in his slacks, pushes his hands between cushions, and investigates the crease between his legs, all without moving from his slouching position.

"It's okay, you haven't lost me," Jensen pipes up.

The distraught search ends abruptly. A hand reaches up to curl around him while the man cranes his head to the side. Jensen allows himself to be lifted away from his human's shoulder.

"You scared the crap out of me. I thought I was going to find you in a crumpled little heap somewhere." The man is busy looking him over, inspecting his wings, his arms, legs, torso, delicate touches everywhere. "Are you alright? Did I smush you in my sleep?"

"No, you did not smush me. You have been very kind. I am in your debt." Jensen tries to stand and bow but, to his embarrassment, his legs are far too unsteady and he topples onto his side in the palm of the man's hand. So much for his attempt at gallantry.

The man eases him into a more comfortable position, smoothing out his wings and untangling his legs. "Easy does it, Comet. You've had a rough couple of days. It'll be a while before you're ready for anything strenuous."

"Comet?" Jensen thinks he remembers something about that name, but it's a far-away memory, shrouded in confusion.

"Oh yeah, sorry. I didn't know your name so that's what I've been calling you. I'm afraid it's kind of a habit now."

Jensen is embarrassed by his lack of manners. "Please, let me introduce myself. My name is Jensen. I live in the meadow next to your village and I have come to welcome you to the area." He blushes. "That is what I was going to say to the first human I got to meet. I guess it does not really work anymore since I botched it." Swallowing hard, he looks down at his clasped hands and shrugs.

"It works perfectly. I'm Jared, it's a pleasure to meet you, Jensen." When Jensen continues to avoid eye contact, Jared extends a finger and gently tilts his head back up, smiling softly. "Hey, you didn't botch anything. But I've been dying to know - how did you get stuck inside my house?"

"You could say my curiosity got the better of me. Felicia always warns me that I'm too nosy for my own good, but it's never gotten me into this much trouble before." Jensen scrunches up his nose and shakes his head.

"And Felicia is...?" Jared leaves his question open, waiting for Jensen to fill in the blank.

"Felicia is one of my quadral mates."

Jared's brow furrows. "She's your mate?"

"No, not my mate, one of my...There are four of us. We're put into groups of four fairies from the time of our birth and each group is called a quadral. We look out for one another and make sure no one is ever alone because of, you know, the possibility of touch starvation. Felicia, Alona, and Misha are my quadral mates and then there's the Guardian. He protects us."

"Okay, I think I remember seeing something about that on TV." Jared nods his understanding as a shadow passes over his face. "But why did your friends...why did your quadral and this guardian let you go off on your own when they knew how dangerous it would be for you? And why haven't they come looking for you?"

Jensen hangs his head. "I kind of snuck off without telling them where I was going. They will never suspect me of having come this far by myself," he whispers.

Jared snorts and Jensen looks up to see that the shadow has been replaced by a grin and two deep dimples. "So you're a curious, sneaky, ninja fairy then, is that it? I gotta say, I didn't take you for the type. Still, it's better than the alternative."

"What is the alternative?"

"Well, if your quadral had knowingly let you put yourself in danger, I would have had to open up a can of fairy whoop-ass."

"Fairy whoop-ass?" Jensen cannot help but laugh at the ridiculous picture this puts in his mind. "I doubt you have it in you to hurt anyone, with a can of fairy whoop-ass or otherwise."

Jared sighs and caresses Jensen's wings with a fingertip. "Yeah, but I've grown kind of attached to you over the last couple of days. The thought of you getting hurt because the people who are supposed to look out for you aren't doing their jobs? That makes me a little crazy."

Jensen thinks of the Guardian's protectiveness and his breath hitches. "I should go back and let them know I'm okay. They've probably been grieving for me. How many days have I been here?"

"I found you two days ago. I've gotten pretty good at doing stuff one-handed." Jared rubs his jawline. "Well, except for shaving. I really didn't want to risk cutting myself, but just about everything else."

Jensen is astonished. "Two days? You've been holding me for two straight days? No breaks? But how have you been eating? Humans need to eat, do you not? That is what the Guardian told us."

"Yes, we eat," A rueful smile quirks Jared's lips. "I've been living off delivery pizza and coffee for the past forty-eight hours."

Even though Jensen doesn't know what either of those things are, a shudder ripples through him. "That sounds dreadful."

"It's not as bad as all that," Jared assures him.

A yawn takes Jensen by surprise. He really does want to let the other fairies and the Guardian know that he is alive, but he feels wrung out just from sitting up and chatting. The hollow space in his chest still pains him and his muscles feel like they've been turned into pulp. There is little chance he would last long outside by himself right now.

"Maybe I can just rest for a while longer and then I will go back to the meadow. I have inconvenienced you enough." Jensen curls up in the palm of Jared's strong hand. He likes how big Jared's hand is, how safe he feels cradled inside it.

"You're not an inconvenience," Jared says, voice deeper and quieter than Jensen has yet heard him. "I'll take you back to your meadow once you can fly again. For now, why don't you lie on your back and let me continue your touch therapy where I left off when I fell asleep."

Jared plucks him up with the index finger and thumb of his free hand and Jensen likes that too. Jared holds him so deftly, easily positioning him on his back along Jared's forearm, arranging each of his arms and legs to make him comfortable.

Jensen's skin still buzzes with renewed nerve activity. It reacts to Jared's touch with bursts of pleasure, fizzing and pulsing. Nothing has ever felt this good. The intensity is overwhelming.

Jared uses his whole hand to massage Jensen's chest and stomach, affecting a huge swath of his nervous system all at the same time. Jensen struggles to remain still as the heel of Jared's hand brushes against his groin and the tips of Jared's fingers work at the muscles in his shoulder. By the gods, it feels exquisite. Jensen's every impulse is to writhe and buck into Jared's huge hand, but he dares not give away his mounting excitement for fear that Jared will be displeased.

This is something very new to him. Never has touch affected him this way before. It's always been about nourishment, never pleasure.

Jared's fingers trail down his sides to his hips and Jensen looses it. Blood rushes to his nether region and his mouth falls open on a groan, his hips judder.

Jensen clamps a hand over his mouth and looks at Jared, eyes wide. "I am sorry," he murmurs.

Jared's hand stills. "Jensen, it's okay. You're aroused by the physical stimulation, it's as simple as that. It doesn't have to mean anything."

"It has never happened to me before. Not like that. I do not understand why it is happening now."

"What do you mean it's never happened to you before? You've never gotten aroused before, is that it? Don't fairies have sex?" Jared moves his hand from Jensen's hips to his leg where he kneads the skin of his calf and shin. It still feels wonderful, sparks igniting wherever his fingers glide. It's tolerable though and Jensen doesn't think he's in danger of losing control any longer.

"Are you asking if fairies procreate? Yes, we procreate when the time comes. We hope that our unions will result in new life, but there is no...it does not feel like...Jared, I do not understand why it is different with you. Your touch feels different, special. I am not sure how to describe it."

"It could just be an aftereffect of the touch deprivation. We don't know for sure that it has anything at all to do with me specifically." Jared gives him a self-deprecating smile. "We should talk about this some more, Jensen. When you're stronger and aren't so dependent on me. You still have some healing to do. Until then, I just want you to know that there's nothing wrong with the way you reacted."

Jensen mulls this over. He doesn't think the way he feels when Jared touches him can be completely explained by touch deprivation. It just seems like there's more to it than that. He wants to explore this phenomenon some more and he hopes that Jared will want to explore it with him. Not now though. Jared's right. There will be time for more discoveries. Later.

Closing his eyes and folding his wings tight to his back, Jensen turns on his side and snuggles up against Jared's flat stomach, content to wait out the remainder of his illness in Jared's capable hands.


	5. Chapter 5

**Christian**

It's been four days since he last saw Jensen. Four days of endless searching. Four days, during which Christian's uneasiness had quickly escalated into gut-wrenching panic and has now settled into something else that he doesn't want to examine too closely. It's not grief because Jensen isn't dead. He can't be.

Satyr's don't need much sleep; that's one of the characteristics that makes them such good guardians. Usually. But ninety-six hours with no rest is beginning to take its toll. Christian clenches his jaw and scrubs a hand over burning eyes. He digs the heel of his hand into first one socket and then the other, hard. The added discomfort gives him something to focus on, keeps his mind from wandering into a dark place from which it might never return.

A breeze stirs the reeds off to his left, drawing his attention. Out of habit, he crouches down, parts the reeds and scans the ground for a glimpse of a green wing or a tiny, prone body. Instead, a beetle, black with red markings, trundles through the moist dirt at his feet. Christian exhales a long breath.

This hill is the last place he saw Jensen and he's been over it more than a hundred times already, has searched under every fallen leaf and behind every blade of grass. Jensen is very small. He could be just about anywhere. He could be pinned under a fallen rock, too weak to call for help. He could simply have succumbed to touch deprivation and dropped from the air to land under the fronds of a fern. He could be within arm's reach at this very moment if only Christian knew where to look.

It's Christian's responsibility to find him. _To recover his body_ , an insistent thought stabs through his mind's defenses, _to give the other fairies some closure_. Christian growls in frustration and shakes his head violently, refusing to let despair take hold of him. He will find Jensen, no matter what it takes. He will find Jensen and bring him back to his quadral.

Felicia flits over to him just then, landing on his shoulder and pressing herself up against his neck, her sweet gesture one of comfort for both of them. Felicia's eye's are dull and rimmed in the same shade of red as her wings. Misha and Alona cling to each other as they hover nearby. The three remaining fairies never leave each other's sides and never go where Christian cannot see them. They search with him until, exhausted, they collapse. When that happens, Christian picks them up and continues his search, carrying them in a fold of his shirt until they have recovered enough to search some more.

It never occurs to him to suggest they go back to their burrow to get some sleep. For one thing, it would feel like giving up which is something none of them can do. For another, he can't bear the idea of any of the little ones being out of his eyesight, not even for a second. It only takes a moment, one second of inattention, for the unthinkable to happen.

Christian's eyes begin to sting and he blinks rapidly to clear his vision. He has no time for tears.

"He is not here," Felicia says, her voice no more than a forlorn murmur in his ear. "He is not anywhere."

"He has to be somewhere. He couldn't have just disappeared."

Even as Christian says the words, his mind comes up with a dozen scenarios in which Jensen does exactly that, disappears without a trace. Carried off in the claws of a bird of prey, swallowed whole by a large snake, mangled beyond recognition by a fox. The list of possibilities is horrifying.

Although a fairy's magic and natural affinity with all animals generally prevents such things from happening - hell, Jensen has admitted to holding entire conversations with squirrels from time to time - that doesn't stop the visions of Jensen's torn and bloody body from flashing in front of him like a waking nightmare every time Christian lets his guard down and stops to think. So he doesn't stop. He doesn't think. He keeps his mind carefully blank, his barriers firmly in place, and he continues searching.

As the midmorning sun crests the tree line to the north, Christian straightens from his crouch, shading his eyes from the glare. The dappled shadows amongst the trees stir and, from within their depths, a human steps into the clearing.

Christian freezes.

A single human poses no threat to a satyr, especially one with Christian's training. But the little ones are with him and, until Christian knows what this human's intentions are, it's best to be wary. Nerves strung as taut as barbed wire, he narrows his eyes and takes stock of the situation.

The distance between them is great, perhaps 100 meters. The human appears to be an unarmed male, tall for his species, with dark brown hair long enough to cover his ears. He stands with the trees at his back, his hands cupped in front of him in a way that suggests he holds something infinitely precious and fragile within them. His lips move as though he's talking to someone Christian cannot see.

Thinking that there may be others hidden in and among the shadows, the satyr takes a step sideways in an attempt to shield Misha and Alona from view.

The human cocks his head with a slight frown on his face, nods once, and then extends his hands and opens them.

A flash of scintillating green catches the sunlight as it comes hurtling towards him. Before Christian can fully process what he's seeing, he hears a gasped, "Jensen!" from next to his ear and Felicia streaks forward with such speed that she's nothing but a red blur. Misha and Alona become purple and yellow blurs hot on her heels.

The four fairies meet halfway, their joyous shouts ringing through the meadow, high and sweet and enchanting, like the piccolo section of an unearthly orchestra.

Christian's chest constricts, his lungs seize up. No matter how hard he tries to take in a deep breath, all he gets are mere sips of oxygen. As he watches the one sight he'd thought lost to him forever, his legs go numb from his haunches all the way to the tips of his cloven feet and he sinks to his knees in the damp grass, unable to support himself any longer.

The fairies dance and trill, spin and laugh, hug and tussle with each other through the currents of air, oblivious to everything except for their happiness at being reunited. For his part, Christian's world is reduced to nothing more than the jumble of multi-colored wings. Emotions he has denied for the past four days; sorrow, guilt, fear, and anger, coalesce and swirl in his gut. He can feel the heavy weight of them begin to dissipate, replaced by feelings of wonder, awe, and a bone-deep relief. He can't stop staring at them, will never tire of seeing the four of them - all _four_ of them - together and happy.

And so it is that he doesn't see the human approaching, doesn't know that he is standing nearby until he feels pressure on his elbow and hears a deep voice say, "Do you need a hand up?"

Christian startles, wrenching his arm out of the human's loose grip while internally berating himself for his lapse in caution. He's wrecked and he knows it, the hits coming faster than he can process them, but he needs to pull himself together right-the-kurwa now. There's no excuse for letting his guard down and risking the well-being of his charges while there's an unknown human in their vicinity.

When he looks up, his gaze is met by piercing, hazel eyes. There's an intelligence there. And kindness. It strikes him then that he's looking into the eyes of the human who took Jensen, the human who has had Jensen for four days. He waits for the fury to swell up inside him, tries to dredge up the protective anger he has lived and breathed ever since he realized that the tiny, green-winged fairy was missing.

His eyes are drawn back to Jensen where he plays with his quadral mates. Jensen who is alive and whole. Jensen whose body is not covered in blood or mangled beyond recognition or any of the other horrible things that could have been. Jensen is home and that's all that truly matters. Christian watches as the wayward fairy swoops and glides, fairy dust shimmering around him, and all he feels is...gratitude.

"You brought him home."

"I did." The human shrugs, expression unreadable, almost as if he's trying desperately to hold himself in check. His voice is soft and there's an air of resignation about him. "As soon as he was able to fly for an extended period of time. It took him a while to work up to this." With one hand, the human gestures at the intricate acrobatics all four fairies are performing.

Christian nods. He's no closer to understanding what happened, but he gets the feeling this human isn't responsible for Jensen's disappearance. Sometime soon, he'll want to hear the whole story. Not now though. He extends a hand and allows the human to pull him up, noting the good ten inches the human has on him height-wise. It doesn't matter. Christian figures he could still take him out if need be.

Together they watch the fairies, neither speaking, each lost in his own thoughts. The silence is companionable, easy. A calm happiness descends on him and Christian knows the fairy dust swirling through the air in great quantities is partially responsible. Still, it feels good, as does knowing the reason behind all the dust.

The human takes a deep breath and murmurs, "They are quite extraordinary, aren't they?"

Christian slants a glance at him out of the corner of his eye. Melancholy. The word jumps into his head and it fits. The human looks melancholy. Christian can't help but wonder how the human can look so awed and so sad at the same time, especially with the amount of fairy dust that is shimmering in his hair.

"They are," he agrees, because it's true.

He's spared from commenting further by Jensen, who performs a graceful twirl and breaks away from his quadral mates, fluttering up to Christian. He comes quickly at first, but slows the closer he gets, the merriment in his expression softening, becoming somewhat wistful and shy.

"Guardian," he says solemnly as he hovers just in front of Christian's face, hands clasped behind his back. "I beg your forgiveness. I was foolish and reckless and I let my curiosity get the better of me. You must be very cross with me, it is well within your right to be so, still, I hope to get back into your good graces one day."

Christian gets his first real look at Jensen then. There are dark smudges under his eyes that give him the appearance of a helpless waif. And that's not all. His build is slighter, as though he's lost weight and is only now beginning to regain some muscle mass. He holds himself differently too, his posture more defensive, less open and naive. His wings, while a vibrant green, look more fragile than they have since Jensen was a fledgling, just learning to fly for the first time. It's obvious that Jensen has already suffered greatly for his transgressions. It's not Christian's place to scold, nor does he have the inclination.

After regarding the fairy for a long time, he says, "I believe you have learned your lesson. You will be more careful in the future."

"Yes, Guardian, I have learned that lesson and many others as well. Humans are a very interesting species. I wish to tell you all about them. I have so many stories I don't even know where to begin. Jared's house is amazing. Oh, I must tell you about the machine that makes the coffee."

The human - Jared, Christian supposes - chuckles. "Yes, we learned not to let Jensen get too close to the coffee. The smell alone makes him a little, um, shall we say, hyper."

Jensen just makes a chirping sound which is mostly meant to be dismissive and keeps talking.

"I got a whiff of your coffee this morning and it has not made me at all hyper," he chides.

Jared rolls his eyes and smiles indulgently.

"What? It hasn't. Anyway, the machine is big and black with silver buttons. And it displays the time too. Did you know that human's keep track of time with numbers? Also, humans have a love of clothing which rivals your own, Guardian, although I still do not understand it." A hint of playfulness creeps into Jensen's tone. "Being with Jared has given me several brand-new reasons for banning clothes outright."

Christian listens, amused, as Jensen prattles on at a rapid clip and Jared begins to turn an odd shade of pink.

"Clothes only get in the way and, besides, they tend to cover up the most important parts. It's very difficult to touch someone when they have pants on and now that I know what happens when Jared touches me on my peni-"

"Jensen!" Jared's voice is a panicked shout, cutting Jensen off mid-word. "Maybe we shouldn't get into that just yet," he continues in a calmer, albeit strangled sounding, tone.

Jensen blinks up at the human. "Oh, all right, Jared." He pauses. "In that case, shall I tell him about the bed?"

Jared clears his throat and nods, so Jensen continues, turning back to Christian.

"You should see the bed, that's where Jared sleeps when he isn't sleeping on the couch. It's humongous and has pillows and sheets and blankets on it. I am very fond of the blankets because they are so soft they feel like I am sleeping on fluffy clouds. I only slept on the blankets once though. Most of the time I slept in Jared's hands or on his stomach. Jared's stomach is very flat and muscular. Show the Guardian how flat your stomach is, Jared."

"Maybe some other time," Jared mumbles at the same time as Christian says, "That's okay. I'll just take your word for it."

Jensen crinkles his eyebrows in bewilderment, his swiftly beating wings creating a soft humming noise. "Have I said the wrong thing?"

Christian could try to explain about modesty and how it's not generally thought to be good manners to take off your clothes in front of people you have only recently meet, but it would do no good. The social, little fairy would never understand. Maybe they can talk about it some other time. For now, he simply says, "No, little one, you're fine."

"Very well, then I shall tell you of Jared's musical device." Jensen launches directly into his next topic with barely a nod of his head to acknowledge Christian's reassurance. "He has a devise that plays all sorts of music whenever he desires. The sound is so clear that at first I thought there must be extremely small people inside, smaller than the smallest fairy who ever lived. Jared says I should not worry, however, for no one is being held captive inside the device and forced to sing against their will."

Jensen's enthusiastic chatter is interrupted by a yawn and Jared gets a concerned look on his face as he holds out his hand. The fairy immediately alights and reclines in the large palm, looking even smaller by comparison.

"I think perhaps I need a short break." Jensen folds his wings tight to his back, but not before Christian sees the tremors going through them. He yawns again and it's clear that his energy is waning quickly. "Give me a few seconds and I shall tell you about Jared's..." His voice trails off and his head lolls to the side before he can finish the thought.

"He still tires easily," Jared explains as he cups the fairy protectively to his chest. "This is the most flying he's done since before I found him, barely alive, on my kitchen counter."

At this bit of news, Christian mouth goes dry and he has to restrain himself from reaching out and grabbing Jensen away from the human. It's one thing to suspect something horrible like that and another thing entirely to have those suspicions confirmed. The images of Jensen, alone and near death, that he has been harboring for the last four days, begin to flash through his mind again.

The other three fairies fly back to him, possibly because they can sense his distress or possibly because they have tired of their game or possibly because they are simply curious. Whatever the reason, Christian is grateful to have them nearby. Alona perches on his shoulder, close to his neck, and pulls his long, dark hair around herself like a curtain. Felicia flies down Christian's collar and then pops her head up to peer at the human from the safety of his shirt. Misha, the most courageous of them, braves proximity with the strange human to flit over and wrap his arms around Jensen.

Jensen sits up and rubs his eyes sleepily, hugs Misha back. Despite his obvious fatigue, he makes an effort at formal introductions. "Misha, it is my honor to introduce you to my new friend, Jared. Jared, this is Misha and over there, hiding behind the Guardian's hair, is Alona. Felicia is the one inside his shirt."

Alona emerges from the curtain of hair and says, "I was not hiding. I was just...cold."

It's a fib, fairies don't get cold in that way, which is why they have no need of clothing, but Christian isn't going to call her on it and Jensen looks like he's about to fall asleep again while sitting in Jared's hand, cocooned in Misha's arms.

"We should get these guys back to their burrow," Christian says. "It's just on the other side of this hill."

"Yeah, it looks like they're all pretty tuckered out."

That's certainly true. All four fairies seem to have run out of steam at about the same time, wings drooping and eyes heavy-lidded.

They all fall asleep on the way, Misha and Jensen cuddled up together in Jared's hand, Alona and Felicia in Christian's.

As they walk, Christian wonders about Jensen's human. The more he wonders, the more he begins to worry. What happened between these two and what type of expectations does this man have for the future? There's only one way to find out and Christian has never had a problem with being blunt.

"How much do you know about the fair folk?" he asks.

"Only what I learned from a documentary when I was in med school. And what I've learned from Jensen." Jared strokes the sole of one of Jensen's wee feet. The fairy sighs and shifts slightly in his sleep, causing Misha to curl even tighter around him. Jared smiles softly at them.

"The fae have a reputation for being fickle creatures, untrustworthy, capricious." Christian shakes his long hair out of his face and fixes Jared with a hard stare. "Nothing could be further from the truth. Believe me, I've lived among them for decades and you won't find a more devoted or constant friend than one of the fae."

Jared opens his mouth to speak, but Christian isn't done yet.

"Listen to me for a minute, Jared, fairies form very strong attachments. I saw the way Jensen looks at you. He's already attached. Whether you think that's a good thing or a bad thing, I don't know and it doesn't make any difference at all to Jensen. He's going to want to see you again." Christian drops his voice to a lower register. "Within a day or two, maybe a week, he's going to forget all about his promise to be careful and he's going to cross the meadow to visit you. I can guarantee it, sure as I'm breathing. And you and I both know it's too dangerous for him to do that."

Jared's lips form a thin, stiff line. "I can't come home to find him like that again. That can't happen."

"No, it can't. Question is...what are we going to do about it?"

_Epilogue - One Month Later_

**Jared**

The Broncos are playing the Stealers on his television, the announcer's voice blaring through his surround-sound speakers, and still the house seems too quiet. It's amazing, Jared thinks, that someone as small as Jensen can have such a huge presence, can fill a house with so much laughter and fun that when he's not there the place feels desolate.

Jared pulls his cell from his pocket and glances at the time. Sunday, 3:55pm, the display blinks at him. His next shift at the hospital doesn't start until Monday morning so he has an entire evening to kill and he can't think of a single thing he wants to do.

He's beyond bored. Bored to the point that he's considering going to the hospital to pick up an extra shift just to have something to do. As he wonders who else might be working today, the doorbell buzzes, the special doorbell he'd installed on his back door. Only one person ever comes in that way.

A huge smile appears on his face as he jumps off the couch to get to the door. Flinging it open, he sees what appears to be an apple with naked, pixie-sized legs, floating at eye level. The legs are fully muscled and decidedly masculine, despite their small size.

"Surprise!" says a familiar voice.

The apple hovers, then sinks a couple of inches before there's a grunt and it steadies again, rising back to its previous level.

Jared reaches out and plucks the apple from Jensen's tenuous grip. "Jensen, this apple is almost as big as you are. How are you able to fly with it? Where did you get it from anyway?"

Jensen gives him an impish grin, the green of his eyes flashing with mirth. "I'll have you know that I am stronger than I appear, and well, you told me you like apples, so I asked the tree near our burrow to grow one for you. Poor tree has been working on it for two whole days."

"Two days? Wow, that's...fast."

Jared studies the apple, hefts it in his hand. There's no denying it's one of the nicest apples he's ever seen, bright red, without a single blemish. Another thought occurs to him.

"But Jensen, that tree isn't even an apple tree."

"I know," Jensen replies, laughing. He wraps his arms around his bare midriff as if he can hardly contain his excitement. "Try it!"

Jared polishes the apple on his shirt, gives Jensen a sideways glance, and takes a bite. It's crisp and tart with just the right amount of sweetness mixed in. Jared moans his appreciation. "Tell your tree, apple tree or not, it makes a damn fine apple," he says as juice runs down his chin.

Jensen's response is to spin around and then launch himself at Jared's neck where he presses in close. "I missed you, Jared."

"I missed you too." In truth, Jared has never been so happy to see someone. The days Jensen spends with his quadral mates and their guardian in the meadow always go by way too slowly. "You're just in time. You saved me from taking on another shift at the hospital out of sheer boredom. I don't understand though, I thought you weren't coming until tomorrow."

"Yes, that is what we planned for this week, but the apple was ready and I could not stand to wait any longer, so I asked the Guardian and he agreed to bring me early."

Sure enough, at the edge of his property where manicured lawn meets tree line, stands the Guardian, arms crossed over his chest, silently watching. The edge of the property is as close as he ever comes to Jared's house. Jared has never asked why, that's just the way it always is. He brings Jensen that far and then he stands and waits to make sure Jared is at home and that Jensen gets inside safely before he goes back to the meadow.

Three small shapes flutter around him. Individual features are difficult to make out from this distance, but the vibrant colors are easy to see. The red-winged fairy begins to fly a curlicue pattern and, from the trailing dust that sparkles in the sunlight, Jared can tell she's forming cursive letters.

_Hello Jared_

Jared lifts a hand in greeting. "Hey Felicia," he calls back, loudly enough for her to hear him.

The sound of her laughter, as high and as delicate as wind chimes, comes back to him on the light breeze.

"I believe she is flirting with you."

"Who? Felicia?"

"Indeed. She is a shameless flirt."

Jared kind of doubts that's true. After all, who does she have to flirt with out in the meadow? Could Jensen be...?

"Jensen, are you jealous?"

"Of course not. What do I have to be jealous of? I am still your favorite, am I not?" Jensen nuzzles the sensitive skin behind his earlobe.

"No contest," Jared declares. "You are, by far and away, my very favorite fairy with green wings that I know."

Jensen doesn't seem to know what to say to that and, since he's never rendered the precocious fairy speechless before, Jared chalks it up as a win. He chuckles and reaches up to stroke Jensen's wings by way of a peace offering. When he looks back out to the edge of the property, the Guardian and his three other charges have already disappeared.

"Come on, let's go inside."

"Jared?" Jensen pipes up as soon as he gets the door closed. "Do you find the temperature inside your house to your liking? Are you comfortable?"

Jared tries to hide his smile. He knows where this is going, knows all about Jensen's campaign to get him out of his clothing. Subtlety isn't one of his strong suites.

Playing along, he answers, "Yeah, I'm comfortable. Why do you ask? Do you want me to open up some windows? Get a breeze going?"

"Oh no, I am fine. It's just, you know, I was thinking. We have known each other for a long time now..."

"About a month, yes. I guess that could be considered a long time."

"Correct, one full cycle of the moon, and in that time we have become very good friends."

"The best," Jared agrees.

"So, you would not feel, um...that thing when you are embarrassed about being without your clothing. What is that word the Guardian used the other day?"

Jensen has learned a lot of what he calls 'human words' since the two of them began hanging out together. He can't really be blamed for forgetting this one since the concept makes no sense to him.

"Modest," Jared says in answer to the question. "Well, I might still feel a little strange about taking my clothes off in front of you, even though we are very good friends."

"You need not be modest in front of me, Jared. Your body looks perfectly acceptable from what I have seen so far. And besides, you see me unclothed all the time. I am not embarrassed in front of you." Jensen flies to the back of the couch and strikes a series of poses in all his naked glory, wings outstretched and head held high, each movement fluid and graceful.

Jared nearly chokes as he tries to hold back his laughter at the determined fairy's antics. Apparently, Jensen isn't prepared to take no for an answer today.

"You're making it very hard for me to resist, first with all your well-developed arguments, then with the wonderful compliment about my acceptable body, and lastly with your graceful dance moves."

Jensen grins. His skin glows a golden light brown from a lifetime spent in the sun. His pert up-turned nose and slightly pointed ears lend him an exotic appearance. "It is only fair, after all," he continues. "When I was sick you spent many hours restoring me to health by touching every part of my body. It should now be my turn to make you feel good by returning the favor. Fairy magic is versatile. I promise, you will enjoy what I can do."

And really, how is Jared supposed to say no to that?

Moments later, his jeans hit the floor and Jensen begins to make good on that promise, wings vibrating as he hums in admiration.

And to think, only a little while ago he'd been bored.


End file.
